


You Met Him? You Met Him?

by teknical_difficulties



Category: Hatchetfield Universe - Team StarKid
Genre: 'mitch' is my hc name for rob's cop character, Autistic Paul Matthews, Gen, Kid Fic, here's hoping it's not shit!!, i have literally no idea how young boys speak, i've never written a kid fic before, paul was a cub scout and you can't change my mind, tw for a brief instance of ableist language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:15:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27252529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teknical_difficulties/pseuds/teknical_difficulties
Summary: After being the target of a cruel prank by two of the older kids in his Cub Scout troop during a camping trip, 6-year old Paul Matthews finds himself lost in the Witchwood Forest in the dead of night. Luckily for him, he meets an unlikely friend while trying to find his way back to the campsite.
Relationships: Paul Matthews & Chumby
Comments: 24
Kudos: 53





	You Met Him? You Met Him?

**Author's Note:**

> Idk, man, I just felt like writing something cute and stupid.

_Monday, June 21, 1993_

If you had told Paul from three weeks ago that he'd be spending the first night of Summer sitting around a campfire in a large clearing in the Hatchetfield Witchwood Forest, listening to the bigger kids in his Cub Scout troop telling ghost stories, he would've told you that that sounded like the least fun thing _ever_. He didn't wanna be _outside_ , getting bitten up by mosquitoes! He wanted to be at home, sitting in front of the TV with a bowl of popcorn, watching VHS tapes of old horror movies from the 30's or playing Super Bomberman with his dad! But _nope!_ His mom had insisted he go on this camping trip. Paul's scout leader, Brian, had hinted that this night out in the woods _could_ help Paul bump his scout ranking up from "Bobcat" to "Tiger", and that had gotten his mom excited. Never mind the fact that Paul had to be seven years old to up his rank to Tiger, which he most definitely was _not_. Plus, his parents knew this would be a good opportunity for Paul to be more social, something they'd _never_ pass up. Paul didn't really _want_ to be more social with the mean kids who called him names and had once attempted to steal all his Magic the Gathering cards, but he wasn't one to say no to his parents' orders. Oh well, at least he got to make s'mores.

Things were going pretty well, even if Paul was bored out of his mind. As Cubmaster Brian helped him steady a roasting fork with two particularly puffy marshmallows stuck firmly on each prong, Paul half-listened to Sam- a Webelos rank scout in his troop, dramatically telling a ghost story with a flashlight shining in his face. The other scouts watched in awe as the older boy recalled how he supposedly met Woolly-Foot- the Hatchetfield Ape-Man, eating _every_ word of the story up. It kinda reminded Paul of an episode of Are You Afraid of the Dark?, but not _nearly_ as interesting. Or scary, for that matter. Paul lifted his fork from the fire as Sam came to the climax of his harrowing tale.

"...and then the Ape-Man said, _'Ooh, aah! Me rip you to pieces!',_ " Sam recalled, putting on a sort of caveman-esque voice to speak as the Ape-Man. "And he _lunged_ at me from the trees!"

"What'd ya do next, Sam?" asked a Wolf rank scout with intrigue.

Sam scoffed, as though the answer was obvious. "I dodged out of the way, and he fell face first onto a rock!" he boasted, gesturing around wildly. "And while he was dizzy from the fall, I picked up a nearby tree branch and _whacked_ that flea-magnet upside the head with it, knocking him unconscious! Once he was down and out, I got outta there, _barely_ escaping with my life."

The end of Sam's story was met with a chorus of _'ooh's'_ and _'wow's'_ and some light applause, all while Sam lapped up the attention from the younger campers and some of his fellow Webelos scouts. Paul, ever the skeptic, rolled his eyes. "Liar..." he muttered.

Sam's gaze shot to Paul. Uh oh. Either Paul had said that louder than he'd intended, or Sam had _really_ good hearing. "What did you say, _short-stack?_ " he spat, furrowing his brow threateningly.

Well, Paul already dug his own grave. Might as well lie in it. "Woolly-Foot isn't _real_ ," he said, just barely catching Brian's eyes widening in surprise at his sudden display of boldness. Or stupidity. Either could probably be applicable to the situation right now. "That's what my dad told me."

 _"Ha!"_ Sam cackled harshly. "I bet he only told you that so you wouldn't wet the bed!"

"Sam, _please..._ " Brian sighed in exasperation, all too familiar with Sam's habit of bullying the younger scouts.

Paul blushed furiously. "No!" he exclaimed, standing from his seat on the moss-covered log. Some of the other boys turned to him, giggling at Sam's comment, and Paul felt himself shrinking back. "I-I just..."

 _"I-I just...!"_ Sam mimicked him, exaggerating the high pitch of the younger boy's voice. The other kids busted up laughing before he continued. "You just don't wanna admit that the story scared you!"

"No it didn't!" Paul insisted, angry tears pricking the corner of his eyes. He blinked them back, hoping that no one had seen them. Why did he have to go and start a stupid argument? "Even if the Ape-Man _was_ real, he would be too big for you to hurt him with a tree branch! _Liar!_ "

The other scouts looked between the two boys as Sam stared back with a gob-smacked expression, stammering frantically in an attempt to save his tall tale. Satisfied, Paul was about to sit back down, when suddenly Sam's best friend and fellow Webelos scout, Mitch, chimed in with, "Way to go, Paul, you little killjoy!"

"Wh-what?" Paul asked, confused.

"You ruined the story!" Mitch huffed. "Why can't you learn to keep your mouth shut, huh?"

"Uh, y-yeah...!" Sam added on, regaining his composure. "Just because you couldn't handle the story, doesn't mean you have to go and ruin the fun for everybody else!"

"Alright, _that's enough!_ " Brian finally interjected, standing up from his spot. Sam may have been a big kid, but Brian absolutely _towered_ over every scout in the troop. He'd just graduated college a year ago, after all. He was good at shutting the boys up when things got out of hand. "I don't wanna hear anymore mud-slinging or arguing from _anyone_ here tonight, you got that!?"

"Yes, Cubmaster Brian..." both Paul and Sam sulked, slumping back down into their seats.

Paul hugged his knees to his chest miserably as the other scouts cast judgmental looks toward him. Even if Brian had stopped the argument before it could escalate any further, it was clear that the other boys were taking Sam's side. And why wouldn't they? As Sam passed the flashlight to another kid so they could take their turn, Paul quietly sniffed back his sobs. He felt Brian place a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Paul?" the scout leader asked in a hushed voice. "Are you okay?"

Paul shook his head. "I wanna go home..." he whimpered.

"Oh, Paul, I'm sorry," Brian sighed sympathetically. "But I can't call your folks out here, my cell doesn't get enough reception! You're gonna have to stick it out until morning."

That didn't exactly improve Paul's mood. The thought of having to sleep in a cramped, sweaty, smelly tent with two other Bobcat scouts that probably hated him sounded like _torture_. Sensing his distress, Brian gave Paul a firm pat on the back.

"Hey, tell ya what," he whispered. Paul reluctantly looked up at the Cubmaster. "In the morning, once the bus drops everyone off at home, I'll tell Sam's parents to tell _him_ to either learn to behave himself, or he can kiss his chances of hitting Eagle rank goodbye."

"O-okay..." Paul sniffled. He liked the sound of that.

Brian smiled down kindly at the youngest scout. "S'more?" he offered, holding up one of the s'mores he'd helped Paul make before the argument broke out.

Well, how could he say no to that?

~

A few hours had passed since the campfire. The sun had gone down, and Brian had sent the boys off to their tents for the night. Meanwhile, Paul was lying wide-awake in his tent, sandwiched between the sleeping bags of the other two Bobcat scouts in attendance, Gary and Ed. While those two had long since fallen asleep, Paul was squirming around uncomfortably in his sleeping bag. He _really_ had to pee. At first, he figured he would just hold it because doing your business in the woods is super gross, but it was clear that wouldn't work out very well. Not wanting to validate Sam's bed-wetting comment from earlier, Paul carefully maneuvered himself out of his sleeping bag and went to open his backpack that was sitting off towards the tent's entrance. He pulled out a mini bottle of hand sanitizer (hey, just because they were in the woods, doesn't mean Paul couldn't be _hygienic_ ), and slowly unzipped the tent.

Paul stepped outside, taking in the balmy midnight air. The only light source in the campsite was a dim lantern that Brian had placed in the center of the clearing. Not much, but it was _just_ enough to help Paul see where he was going. Quiet as a mouse, he stepped out of the clearing and behind a tall pine tree. He gave the campsite one last cursory glance to make sure no one else was awake. Okay, good. The coast was clear.

After relieving himself, Paul pulled up his pants and retrieved his hand sanitizer from his pocket. He stepped back into the campsite, squirting a small blob of gel on the palm of his hand. As he rubbed it in, he walked back to the Bobcat tent, but stopped in his tracks at the sound of something rustling in a nearby bush. Paul froze, startled. He looked in the direction of the noise. Nothing, just a harmless little bush. It was probably just a nighthawk. They're nocturnal, right? Paul spent another couple of seconds staring at the bush, expecting something to come out, but there was nothing. With a shrug, Paul finished sanitizing his hands, and made his way over to the tent. But as Paul began to unzip the opening, hoping that Gary or Ed hadn't rolled over onto his sleeping bag, another rustling sound came from the bush. This one louder than the last. Before Paul had the chance to turn around, he felt an arm wrap around his waist and hoist him off the ground. Paul was about to shriek in fright when someone _else's_ hand clamped itself over his mouth. And before he knew it, Paul's mystery assailants were carrying him off into the Witchwood Forest, lighting their way with two flashlights.

 _"Mm! Mmm!"_ Paul attempted to scream into the person's hand, but to no avail.

"Shut it, you little twerp!" the person holding his waist hissed. That was Mitch's voice! "You're _so_ dead!"

"Yeah, this'll teach you not to call me a liar!" the person covering his mouth growled. _Sam!_ "And don't think I didn't hear Brian telling you about snitching to my parents!"

Paul futilely attempted to twist himself out of the boys' grasp, but their hold was just too tight. Tears of fear began to well up in his eyes. "Mm, _mmph!_ " he cried.

" _Aww,_ is the widdle baby gonna cry?" Mitch cooed mockingly, causing Sam to bust out cackling. He tightened his grip on Paul's middle.

Paul continued to try and free himself, kicking his legs out wildly and screaming into Sam's hand, hoping in vain that _maybe_ someone from the campsite would hear him. But the strength of one six-and-a-half year old was no match for that of two ten year olds. The tears began to stream down his face, prompting Mitch to taunt him further.

"We should dump him in a poison ivy patch!" Sam suggested eagerly. "That'll teach him a lesson he won't forget!"

" _Hell_ no, dude!" Mitch replied, shocking Paul with his foul language. "I'm not gonna get myself lost wandering around the Witchwood Forest for three hours, just looking for poison ivy!"

"Ugh, _fine_ , you're right..." Sam groaned, clearly disappointed by the rejection. "Should we just beat the snot outta him, then?"

"Let's do it!"

Growing more and more desperate and frightened, Paul bit down _hard_ into the flesh of Sam's palm. The older boy yelped in pain and released his grip on Paul, letting his head hit the muddy ground below and dropping his flashlight in the process. Mitch followed suit and dropped his legs into the muck.

"Yo, what happened?" Mitch asked, shining his flashlight at Sam, who was observing his hand.

"The little spaz _bit me!_ " Sam replied, showing Mitch his hand, which only had a tiny bite mark visible beneath his thumb. It wasn't even _bleeding_ or anything, so Paul didn't understand why he was making such a fuss about it.

Paul willed himself to sit up. He was dizzy from hitting his head, out of breath from screaming, and sore in the spots where Mitch had been gripping him. Tears continued to fall silently down his face as the two bullies glared down at him menacingly.

"Still wanna beat him senseless?" Mitch asked, pointing his light directly at Paul's eyes.

Sam shook his head. "Nah, man, I changed my mind," he said. "If we stay out here too much longer, our lights are gonna die, and then _we'll_ be lost. Let's just leave him here."

"W-wait, no!" Paul stammered breathlessly, terrified beyond belief. Sam and Mitch were jerks, but they wouldn't just _leave_ him out here, all alone in the dark! Would they? "Please-"

"Yeah, and we'll let the timberwolves and bears have ya for a midnight snack!" Sam continued, smiling down at Paul with a cruel glint in his eyes.

"Or maybe..." Mitch added on, catching his friend's attention. "The Hatchetfield _Ape-Man_ will find him and eat him up!"

"Apes are herbivores, stupid!" Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Woolly-Foot wouldn't eat him!"

"No, apes are omnivores, you frickin' _dunce!_ " Mitch retorted, lightly shoving him. "That's why they have _fangs._ "

Paul was stunned silent, only his shaky breaths could be heard. His head was spinning with anxiety. They really _were_ gonna leave him out here! Before he could protest, the other boys turned to go.

"Whatever, let's just get outta here before Brian realizes we're gone." Sam grumbled irritably.

"Wait, dude," Mitch piped up, shining his light down at Sam's flashlight, which was still sitting in the mud. It was bright yellow, with three dark blue stickers shaped like the letters 'S-A-M' on the side. "Your flashlight."

"Eh, let the brat have it," Sam yawned, running a hand through his shaggy hair. "Dumb thing's prolly almost outta battery, anyway."

And with that, the older boys left, and Paul was completely alone. He grabbed Sam's flashlight, looking around frantically for anything that might jump out at him from the shadows. But before Paul could really get a good look at his surroundings, the light began to flicker before snuffing itself out completely. Paul slapped the device a few times, quietly begging it to turn back on, but it was too late. The light was dead, and Paul was shrouded in darkness, with only the moonlight filtered through the trees above to illuminate the area. He dropped the useless light source in his lap, tapping his fists together anxiously as his breathing began to quicken.

 _"Okay, okay, okay..."_ he repeated to himself quietly, hoping he wouldn't wake any nearby predators.

Paul started to think over his current predicament. That's what his parents always told him to do when something was wrong! First of all, he was lost and alone in the Hatchetfield Witchwood Forest in the middle of the night. Second of all, his only source of light was dead. Third of all, the only supplies he had with him besides the aforementioned dead flashlight, was the mini bottle of hand sanitizer in his pocket. Fourth of all, he hadn't been focusing on his surroundings while Sam and Mitch were carrying him away, so he couldn't retrace his steps. Fifth of all, the Witchwood Forest was well-known as a place where _many_ people mysteriously vanished, only to turn up dead several months later. And sixth of all, the place was supposedly home to Hatchetfield's most famous legends, _none of which_ were said to be all that friendly.

Okay, maybe thinking over the current situation _wasn't_ a very good idea, because now Paul was more terrified than ever.

Paul feared moving from his spot, his mind _racing_ with thoughts of all the terrible things that could happen to him out here. He could get his foot caught in a hidden bear trap. He could come into contact with some poisonous plant. It could start raining, and cause him to catch hypothermia or something. He could fall and hurt himself thanks to the darkness. He could get attacked by aggressive wildlife. He could end up wandering _further away_ from the campsite. He could encounter Woolly-Foot! No... Woolly-Foot _isn't real_. Paul was _not_ going to let Sam win. He was going to be brave. He had to be. But... _how?_ How could he be brave at a time like this?

Just as the tears began to well up in Paul's eyes again, he heard another rustling sound. This time, from _above_ him. At first, Paul tried to be reasonable. _It's just the wind,_ he thought. But then he realized that he hadn't felt a breeze, and that the noise had come from only _one_ tree. He squinted up at the massive pines looming over him. Nothing but trees and sky, as far as the eye could see. Paul let out a shaky breath he didn't even realize he was holding, and gave the trees one last upward glance.

And that's when he saw it.

In one pine tree, just across from him, Paul spotted a silhouette. It looked... _vaguely_ like a man, but the moonlight that shone behind him almost made it appear as though he was covered in thick, black fur. He couldn't tell how tall the creature was from his angle on the ground, but he looked _pretty_ big. Paul shook his head haphazardly, hoping his eyes were playing tricks on him. But when he looked back up at the tree, the creature was still there. Watching him intently. Paul took an anxious step backwards. And then another. The creature kept on watching, still and silent. A frightened whimper escaped Paul's throat against his will. And then suddenly, the creature jumped down from the tree, landing just a few feet in front of Paul with a loud _THUD!_

"N-no...!" Paul gasped, falling to the ground and shuffling back as far as he could from the monster. "Stay away!"

Hunched over, the creature began to slowly advance on Paul, who continued to inch himself away. That is, until he felt his back hit a tree. He was cornered, stuck between a monster and a hard place. As the hairy beast approached, a few guttural grunts escaping it, Paul began to weep in terror. This was it. He was done for. He curled himself up into a ball, covering his eyes with his hands as he braced himself for... _whatever_ this monster was going to do to him. Several seconds passed, and nothing happened. Paul took a chance and peered at the creature between his fingers. It was just... staring at him. The anticipation somehow made it _worse_. The monster leaned forward, and Paul covered his eyes once more with a terrified yelp. But then, it started making a strange noise. Paul took another peek, and he realized that the beast was... sniffing him?

 _"Ooh, ooh, ooh?"_ it hooted curiously as it continued to sniff him.

"I-I swear I don't taste very good," Paul croaked out meekly, assuming that the creature was trying to figure out whether or not he'd be worth eating. "I'm too bony, y-you'll prolly just break a tooth on me or something."

The creature backed away slightly with another grunt. "You think... I going to _hurt you?_ " it said in a questioning tone.

Paul couldn't believe his ears. It could _talk!?_ But more than that, it... wasn't going to eat him? "W-well, yeah?" he stuttered. Honestly, how could he think otherwise?

The monster sat down. "Forgive, please," he sighed, bowing his head sadly. "Did not mean to frighten."

Paul sat up a little more, his panic beginning to ease. "It's, uh... it's okay, I forgive you," he said, looking up at the creature. "Can you... step into the light? I wanna see you better."

The creature nodded it's large, furry head and lumbered backwards carefully. He stopped upon reaching a patch of moonlight, and Paul gasped in astonishment. He hadn't been able to tell when the creature had been advancing on him, but it's face looked remarkably... _ape-like_. "You're... the Hatchetfield Ape-Man, aren't you? You're Woolly-Foot!" he exclaimed.

"Woolly-Foot not real name," the Ape-Man explained. "Real name _Chumby_."

Paul couldn't help but snicker a bit. "Chumby?" he echoed. The Ape-Man nodded with a proud grunt. He just couldn't believe it. The Ape-Man really _was_ real! And he wasn't some big evil monster! "My name's Paul. Paul Matthews."

"Hello, Paul-Paul Matthews." Chumby greeted him.

Paul burst into a fit of giggles at his misunderstanding. "Close enough!"

Chumby gave an apeish hooting noise that sounded a _bit_ like human laughter. He sat down once more, crossing his legs much like a human would and resting his knuckles on the soft ground. "Why Paul-Paul Matthews all alone?" he asked. "Witchwood Forest not safe at night for small humans."

Paul's heart sank as he remembered the severity of his situation. "I'm lost..." he explained sadly. "These two boys in my Cub Scout troop, Sam and Mitch, they were mad at me. So they dumped me out here and left me all alone. I don't know how to get back to our campsite, and..." Paul paused, a small sob escaping him. "I-I'm really scared..."

"Hmm..." Chumby hummed, as though he were deep in thought. "Not safe to travel through Witchwood Forest at night. You stay with Chumby until sun come up, _then_ we find campsite. Good?"

Paul's head shot up. "W-wait, really?" he asked in disbelief. "You'll help me out?"

"You _good friend_ ," Chumby declared, standing up. "Safe with Chumby."

"O-okay!" Paul agreed excitedly. He wouldn't be wandering around lost forever! Wiping the stray tears from his face, he stood up and picked Sam's dead flashlight off the ground. He'd need it for later. "We should probably find some shelter, then. My mom always says that when you live in Michigan, it could start raining at _any_ second!"

Chumby tilted his head like a confused puppy. "But this Hatchetfield?" he said. "Not Michigan."

Paul giggled once more. "Hatchetfield is _in_ Michigan, silly!" he laughed delightedly. "Now, let's go find that shelter! Nowhere too high up, though. I don't like heights."

"No heights, okay." Chumby complied. Without much warning, he scooped Paul up into his arms- who gave a startled scream-laugh in response, and placed the boy on his broad shoulders. Paul tightly grabbed onto the shaggy mane of fur on the Ape-Man's head. "Chumby carry Paul-Paul Matthews. No worry, Chumby take _good care_ of his fur. No fleas."

As Chumby carried Paul to what would be their makeshift shelter for the night, Paul was overtaken by a sense of wonder. He was riding on the shoulders of the _Hatchetfield Ape-Man_ , a creature that he'd sworn up and down didn't exist only a few hours ago! And what's more, he felt like a _giant_ because Chumby was so tall! He had to be at _least_ seven feet off the ground. It was nice, feeling so big. Paul hoped that _he'd_ grow this tall one day. He found himself looking around the Witchwood Forest as Chumby traversed it, even though he couldn't see much of anything.

"This good shelter?" Chumby suddenly asked after several minutes of walking. He pointed a large finger at a rocky ridge with a deep indent. _Perfect_ shelter if it started raining.

"Yep!" Paul replied.

Chumby carefully grabbed Paul under the arms and lifted him off his shoulders, carrying him towards the indentation. He set him onto the soft, mossy ground and sat down beside him. Paul looked up. The sky was still visible from under the ridge. A few clouds had begun to drift above them, but Paul could see a few stars twinkling overhead. This really _was_ the perfect shelter. But before Paul could get too focused on the sky, he felt Chumby begin to lightly pick and scratch at his hair and shirt, and he jumped back a bit with a squeak.

"What're you doing?" he asked, smiling up at his protector.

"You covered in mud," Chumby explained matter-of-factly, still picking at the fabric of Paul's sleep shirt. "Pine needles, too. Chumby help clean off."

 _"It tickles!"_ Paul exclaimed, a few giggles slipping out as he fidgeted at the sensation. Nevertheless, he allowed Chumby to continue cleaning. Tickly as it was, Paul didn't like the thought of having dried mud and pine needles stuck in his hair and on his clothes. So he just sat there while his new friend picked him clean, giggling and squirming the entire time.

"Sam and Mitch hurt Paul-Paul Matthews at all?" Chumby asked, picking the last pine needle from the boy's hair.

"A little sore where they grabbed me, but I'm okay." Paul answered, his ticklish laughter dying down with a sigh. He tried to think of something else to say, and realized he'd forgotten to say something _very_ important. "By the way, Chumby. Thanks for saving me."

Chumby looked down at Paul with what looked to be a close-mouthed smile. "Chumby only did right thing." he explained, though Paul could tell he appreciated the thanks. The Ape-Man gave him a gentle nudge. "Rest now. Have long morning of search ahead. I keep watch."

Paul was surprised for a moment before he realized. Oh yeah. He was _exhausted_. He stretched his arms with a yawn, and laid down on the mossy rock. "Alright," he sighed sleepily, shutting his tired eyes. "G'night, Chumby."

"Sleep well, Paul-Paul Matthews." Chumby mumbled in reply. And within a few minutes, the boy managed to drift off to sleep.

~

"Paul-Paul Matthews? Wake up. Sun is up."

Paul groaned as he felt Chumby nudge him awake. Turns out sleeping outside without a sleeping bag was a pretty rough experience. He felt stiff and achey, he was hungry, and his eyes were still heavy with sleep. He'd fallen asleep on the living room couch a few times before, and woken up with a bad crick in his neck. But that was _nothing_ compared to this. Forcing himself awake, Paul yawned, realizing that he was no longer lying on the ground. Apparently at some point during the night, Chumby must've noticed that he didn't look particularly comfortable, because Paul was lying on the Ape-Man's torso instead of the patch of moss where he had drifted off. Overall, he made a better (and much _warmer_ ) mattress than a rock with a thin layer of moss over it, but that didn't stop Paul's back from being sore.

"Morning, Chumby..." he yawned, still half-asleep. He sat up, getting a better look at the creature that had saved him now that it was light out. He finally got a good look at the Ape-Man's eyes. They were a deep, striking green. Not unlike the pine trees that he lived amongst. Paul carefully slid down from Chumby's stomach, choosing to sit next to him on the ground, and grabbed Sam's flashlight. "So, what do we do now?"

"We find campsite!" Chumby answered with an enthusiastic hoot. "Ready to go?"

"Mhm," Paul hummed, rubbing his eyes.

"Rain fall last night, ground too slippery," Chumby explained, standing up and moving out from under the ridge. "Still raining a bit now. So Chumby carry Paul-Paul Matthews again, okay?"

Paul nodded, satisfied with that arrangement. Walking in the mud without his shoes sounded _terrible_ , so he was more than happy to oblige. He raised his arms up, expecting to be placed on Chumby's shoulders again. But much to his surprise, the Ape-Man lifted him up and held him more like one would hold an infant. Paul figured it was to better shield him from the light drizzle, but it was still kinda odd. He hadn't been held in this fashion since he was only one year old. _Maybe_ two. Once Chumby seemed certain that Paul was comfortable, he set off.

"Who else at campsite?" Chumby asked him.

"Oh! Uh..." Paul exclaimed, realizing that the other scouts probably would've noticed he was missing by now, assuming they were awake. They might be looking for him! Or at least, Brian would be. It would probably help if Chumby knew _who_ to look for. "Well, there's lots of other Cub Scouts there, but we should probably keep an eye out for Cubmaster Brian. He's my scout leader."

Chumby gave a puzzled grunt. "Cubmaster?" he repeated. "Like bear? But Paul-Paul Matthews _human!_ "

Paul laughed, probably a bit harder than he'd intended thanks to his lingering sleepiness. " _No,_ Cubmaster is just a title!" he explained. "There's lots of different ranks in Cub Scouts. I'm a Bobcat scout, which is the rank for the youngest kids."

Chumby hummed in what Paul _hoped_ was understanding. "What Cubmaster Brian look like?" he pressed further.

"He's a tall guy. Not as tall as _you_ , but still pretty tall," Paul began. "Real skinny, too. And he's got curly red hair. If he's looking for me, he's prolly gonna have the other scouts with him. He wouldn't just leave them alone at camp."

"Tall guy, red hair, followed by more small humans," Chumby mused, seemingly to himself. He nodded. "Got it."

That's how the next hour or so went. Or at least, it _felt_ like an hour. Paul didn't have any way of telling what time it was, so it could've been only a few minutes. Maybe he should wear a watch or something. Chumby continued to wander the misty Witchwood Forest with Paul in his arms, stopping every time he heard a noise he deemed suspicious. Occasionally, the still-a-little-tired Paul would begin to drift off, but Chumby would quickly notice and give him a playful poke to jolt him awake again. After a while, Paul started to wish that Chumby would let him back onto his shoulders. He could get a better vantage point from up there. Despite it being Summer, the wet air caused by the rain and mist was beginning to chill Paul to the bone. He couldn't _wait_ to go home and get a nice, warm bath and some breakfast. Then he'd spend the rest of the day catching up on all the sleep he missed. He smiled at the thought, but was quickly snapped out of that momentary bliss by a rumble from his belly. Paul was beginning to fret that they were getting further away from their destination. But then...

"Paul!" a voice called out in the distance.

Paul gasped. "Chumby, did you hear that?" he whispered to his protector.

"Hear what?"

"Shh..."

There was a few seconds of silence, with nothing but the light pitter-patter of the drizzle hitting the forest floor. Just when Paul thought that maybe he'd been hearing things, the voice cried out again. "Paul! Where are you, buddy?"

"That's Brian's voice!" Paul exclaimed in a hushed voice, looking up at Chumby with excitement in his eyes.

"Paul!" the familiar voice of one of the scouts yelled. That was _definitely_ Gary!

Soon enough, Brian and Gary's calls were accompanied by the calls of several other scouts. A giddy feeling bubbled up in Paul's stomach. They were really looking for him! Paul listened for another couple of seconds, trying to figure out where the voices were coming from. After a moment, he pointed forward and a bit to the left. "They're coming from that way! Uh..." Paul said, trying to remember which direction was up and to the left. Brian had taught him this... _Oh!_ "To the northwest!"

Without hesitation, Chumby took off in that direction, quick but careful not to jostle his young passenger too much. Paul clutched on tighter to Sam's flashlight. He didn't wanna drop it. After all, it would be rude not to... _return it_ to it's rightful owner. Within a minute or so, Chumby suddenly stopped at the side of a muddy trail. Paul looked up the path and saw Brian and the rest of the scouts walking up it, facing away from them. _Including_ Sam and Mitch, who were calling his name just like everyone else as though this _wasn't_ all their fault. Paul looked up at Chumby with a broad smile on his face.

"That's them!" he whispered happily.

"This where Chumby take leave," Chumby sighed, his voice solemn. Before Paul could ask, he continued with, "Chumby only reveal himself to humans who need help. You go now."

Paul felt a pang of sadness in his gut. "O-okay," he stammered. "I understand. I'm gonna miss you, though."

"Chumby miss you, too," the Ape-Man muttered. "But won't forget you. Paul-Paul Matthews very _brave_ boy."

Paul smiled once more. He'd never been called brave before... In fact, most of the other scouts and the kids at school usually called him a coward or a cry-baby. Biting back a sob, Paul wrapped his arms around Chumby's neck in a tight hug. "You're my hero," he said. "Goodbye, Chumby."

The Ape-Man hugged him back and set him down on the trail. "Goodbye, Paul-Paul Matthews," he grunted, giving the boy a light nudge forward. "Go home now. Be safe."

"I will." Paul huffed, straightening his posture.

And with that, Chumby turned to leave, and Paul watched him disappear into the mist. Once he was sure the Ape-Man was gone, Paul looked left up the trail. The forms of Brian and the scouts were just _barely_ visible in the mist. Ignoring the icky feeling of cold mud seeping into his socks, Paul took off running in their direction, flashlight still in hand.

"Brian!" he called out, almost slipping in the muck as he ran. The scout leader stopped in his tracks and whirled around to face him, sending a wave of adrenaline through him. "Here I am!"

"Oh my god, Paul!" Brian gasped with elation, rushing forward to meet him halfway. The other scouts followed close behind.

The Cubmaster dropped to his knees as the two reached each other, seemingly not minding the mud as much as Paul did. He firmly grasped the boy's shoulders, eyeing him up and down. As though making sure he was real. The other kids watched from behind him, and Paul didn't miss the look of barely disguised shock on Sam and Mitch's faces. Paul didn't fancy himself a snitch, but he couldn't _wait_ to rat them out.

"You scared me half to _death_ , Paul!" Brian sighed in relief, sounding thoroughly out of breath. "How'd you get out here? Are you hurt at all?"

Paul lifted up the side of his shirt, and just as he'd suspected, the spot where Mitch had gripped him had a distinctly _hand-shaped_ bruise forming on it. Brian leaned forward slightly, carefully inspecting the black and blue mark. "Just this bruise, I think." he answered. Then, he sent a glare in Sam and Mitch's direction, and the boys went pale. "Why don't you ask Sam and Mitch how I got here?"

Brian's gaze hardened, and he slowly turned to face the two Webelos scouts, as did the other boys. "Sam, Mitch," the Cubmaster said flatly. "Care to explain what he's talking about?"

A chorus of _'oooooh's'_ rippled throughout the other scouts as the two bullies stood there, slack-jawed and stuttering. Finally, Sam spoke up. "Y-you don't actually believe _we_ had anything to do with this, right?" he chuckled nervously.

"Frankly, Sam, yes," Brian replied, stone-faced and eerily calm. "You've always been mean to Paul, and you seemed _pretty_ peeved about him calling your ghost story a lie."

"Y-you can't just take sides like that!" Mitch exclaimed, aghast. "The kid's a liar! I bet he went out here on his own just to prove he wasn't scared by Sam's story or something! And he _was_ scared, by the way."

"But I have my own flashlight," Paul piped up, feeling more confident than he'd _ever_ felt during a Cub Scout meeting. He held up Sam's dead flashlight, clearly labeled with the older boy's name by three little stickers. "So why would I have _this?_ "

Stunned silent, Sam and Mitch just stared straight ahead, only a few _'uh's'_ and _'um's'_ escaping them. With a sigh, Sam stepped forward. "Cubmaster Brian," he began, his voice the smallest Paul had ever heard it. He pointed to his friend/accomplice. "It was all Mitch's idea."

 _"My idea!?"_ Mitch gasped. " _You_ were the genius who wanted to-"

 _"Enough!"_ Brian interjected, raising his voice. He stood up, approaching the two Webelos scouts with tranquil fury, his height more intimidating then ever. "I'm going to have a _very_ long talk with both of your parents when we get to the bus stop."

Sam and Mitch sighed, reluctantly resigned to their fate. "Yes, Cubmaster Brian..." they grumbled in unison.

"Alright!" Brian exclaimed, back to his normal peppy demeanor, as though nothing had happened. "Let's head back to the campsite, then. The bus driver's probably wondering where the heck we are. Scouts, you walk ahead of me so we don't lose anyone else. That goes for you too, Sam and Mitch. And Paul, you take my hand and stay close. I wanna hear the specifics of what happened last night, if that's okay."

"Okay." Paul complied, knowing he'd have to omit a few details.

He wasn't looking forward to ruining his socks further, but as they started walking, Ed approached him. In his hands were Paul's shoes! Apparently he'd been the first to notice that Paul was missing, and had brought his shoes along once they started the search. Paul thanked his fellow Bobcat scout, and slipped his sneakers on. Sure, they weren't all that comfortable thanks to his muddy socks, but it was better than nothing. The troop continued down the trail, Paul walking hand-in-hand with the Cubmaster, when suddenly he got the feeling like he should turn around. Paul subtly glanced over his shoulder, and saw Chumby standing further down the path, watching him go. A small smile finding it's way onto his face, Paul gave a final wave goodbye to his friend. Without so much as a grunt, Chumby waved back, and disappeared into the mist once more.

**Author's Note:**

> Paul's gonna feel _hella_ vindicated once he and Sam are both in their 30's, and he's the taller one by like two or three inches. Hope you all enjoyed... _whatever_ this was. Comments are _very much_ appreciated!


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